


Does Everyone Stare

by areslashcringe



Category: Clone High
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Joanfk, fuck abe, i have no fucking idea how to tag fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:46:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27053629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areslashcringe/pseuds/areslashcringe
Summary: My shots will always miss....a fic from jfk's pov mostly based on does everyone stare by the police.
Relationships: JFK/Joan of Arc (Clone High)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 173





	1. Does Everyone Stare

**Author's Note:**

> fyvgbhkjnbhvgyfcyvgbhkj hello. i've been learning does everyone stare on my ukulele for the past few weeks and randomly i was like 'what if i wrote a fic about this' and then i just started typing and here is this. hope you like it

JFK had been in a cold sweat all morning. He had tried to look his best today—he used extra shampoo and conditioner, made sure to iron his shirt and pants, and practiced his posture—but he knew that Joan didn't care much for looks. If she did, she wouldn't be in love with Lincoln, now would she?

All throughout the school day he was nervous. He kept second guessing himself; _Why am I doing this? She doesn't like me._ Eventually, his thoughts aged into irritation. _I didn't ask to feel like this, to feel for her. There's no way she'll say yes. God, I'm stupid._

He could barely focus on keeping up his fuck-boy persona. His head was spinning like a swarm of agitated wasps. He couldn't keep still, his nervous tics getting the better of him. Tapping his desk, bouncing his leg, biting his lip. Joan, Joan, Joan.

Joan was plaguing his mind. Gandhi had even noticed; "Hey, J-slice, you alright?" he had asked after history class. "Huh? Er, yeah," he said, just barely stopping his voice from wavering. Gandhi's brow furrowed. "You sure, man? You've been weird all morning." JFK had chuckled, "Nah, I'm fine. Nice, uh, of ya to, ask, though," and patted the short boy on his head. "Yo, I thought we agreed no head pats!"

The final bell seemed ear-splitting to him, even though it was the same volume as it usually was. He was just so trapped in his own brain, playing out each and every scenario that would result from this. Most of them ended badly. At this point, he was considering giving up and burying his feelings deep down within him, like he usually did. _No, Kennedy,_ he chided himself, _You gotta do this. You're gonna die if you don't say anything._

He rushed out of the classroom, and his eyes immediately began scanning the crowd for blood-red hair. Before he could see her, though, he heard her. "Abe!"

Peeking over someone's shoulder, he saw Joan excitedly navigating through the throng to find that twig with sideburns. Once her eyes landed on him, though, she stopped in her tracks, sighed, and slunk back into the mass of students chattering like budgies. Abe had Cleo against the lockers and was playing a very intense game of tonsil hockey with her.

JFK felt a sharp pang of anger through his heart. He hated Lincoln. Joan, a gorgeous, intelligent, awe-inspiring girl, was right in front of him, and he just shoved her aside every time! Unbelievable. He was too busy worshiping the ground beneath Cleo's hundred-dollar high heels. _That no good cheating tramp..._

He pinpointed her location before weaving his way past clone after clone until he reached her back. "Hey," JFK said meekly. Startled, Joan whipped around so hastily she almost fell over. She appeared dazed for a second before annoyance settled on her face. "Kennedy," she said flatly.

The words died on his tongue. Fuck. He had rehearsed this so many times. He had stared intensely into the mirror, planning his every word, his every intonation and nonverbal cue, and deciding the perfect amount of 'er's and 'uh's to scatter between phrases. So why was it that those hours of practice vanished into thin air when it was finally time?

"Well?" Joan's sharp voice yanked JFK out of his rapidly declining thoughts. "W-Wanna fuck?" It tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it. 'Wanna fuck.' It was his most basic, default pick-up line, the basis for all of his best one-liners. 

She rolled her eyes. "Jesus Christ. How many times do I have to beat you up before you realize that I'm not gonna sleep with you?" she spat, her voice dripping with venom. He tried to swallow the growing lump in his throat, to no avail. "No, that's, uh, not what I meant," he sputtered in a weak attempt to salvage himself. There went his best chance.

"I'm sick of your games, Kennedy. Go choke on a dick," she growled. Her glare was as searing hot as a branding iron, and just as steely, too. JFK said hastily before she could leave, "Wait, I seriously, er, didn't mean it! I-It's just a default response."

Joan raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, "That's sad." JFK, in an attempt to get back on her good side by putting himself down, chuckled shakily, "Uh-huh, yeah, it is. Totally. Very sad." 

He practically shrank under her gaze. She could kill a man with just one glance if she wanted to. Those eyes, ice cold and distant yet blazing with a fiery rage. Joan pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well, what did you mean?" She put emphasis on each word, drenching the question with caustic irateness.

JFK was very aware of the slowly dwindling amount of students around them. He needed to hurry. He stammered, his common sense having long since left him, "I just, well, I was, uh. I was wondering if you, er-uh, wanted to maybe, um, head down to the Knoll sometime? With me?" 

Joan was looking at him. Staring, even. Then, she started to laugh. Kennedy forced a few giggles to seem like he was in on it, though he was quite confused. She did have a nice laugh, though. He wanted to see it again. The way her shoulders shook softly and her lips quirked into an aloof smile was quite pleasing to the eyes. 

"How dumb do you think I am?" she snickered, her voice betraying the cynical anger lying beneath her laugh. His heart sank like an anchor. "Uh, I don't!" he said quickly, but she just shot him a dirty look. "You could at least put some effort into soliciting me," she groaned with another irritated eye-roll. 

He was beginning to get frantic. "I'm not trying to solicit you," JFK tried, "I-I just wanna, er-uh, hang out." "Kennedy," she growled, hands on her hips, "you're better off sleeping with the billion other girls at your beck-and-call. Why are you so obsessed with me?"

That question struck him as a little odd. Well, how couldn't he be obsessed with her? She was the perfect Betty. Smart, compelling, sculpted like a goddess, calm and collected but a bad-ass when she needed to be, and so unique. That Lincoln punk must be blind and deaf to ignore her like he does.

 _Don't say 'because you're hot,'_ he told himself firmly. _Say all the things you literally just thought._

"For starters, you're, er-uh, smokin' hot," JFK said with his trademark smirk. Joan was not amused. He continued before she could get mad(der) at him, "And you've got a, er, rockin' personality, too. Also, you're real smart. And cute." He couldn't help but add spitefully, "That Lincoln fella's missin' out."

Joan was silent for a few moments. "Wait... you're being serious? You really aren't just doing this to have sex with me?" she asked, her tone of voice genuinely curious. She tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear, her eyes trained on the ground. The intimidating mask she wore so often was slipping. 

But JFK couldn't celebrate just yet. He had to sell this.

"Of course, Betty. You're a real catch, and I'd love to, er, take ya out sometime," he said in a softer voice. He was being sincere, and he wanted her to know that.

Once more, Joan fell silent. Her eyes were unfocused; she was deep—perhaps lost— in thought. JFK took this time to admire her. Oh, how he'd love to stroke that hair, to run his hands down her body. But, he'd also love to watch a movie with her, or to stay up late talking and laughing, or to just be around her. And it looked like he might have a chance.

"What have I got to lose?" she mumbled to herself before nodding and affirming, "Okay, Kennedy. I'll go to the Knoll with you." A small smile graced her lips, and he could feel his heart soaring.

JFK couldn't help but fist pump and exclaim, "Yes!" Joan laughed at that. "Weirdo," she said, but her tone was amicable, maybe even a little affectionate. It was then that they both realized simultaneously that the school was deserted, and they had to get home.

"Tomorrow after school?" he asked hopefully, his eyes shining like a puppy. "Sounds good to me," she chuckled lightly. Together, they walked down the empty hallway before going their separate ways when they reached the exit.

"See you then," Joan said, still grinning. Her smile made his heart flutter. "Alright, Joan. See ya." 

JFK watched her as she walked away. He had no idea how he had gotten her to agree, but it wasn't like he was complaining about it.

_My shot didn't miss._


	2. I Only Stare This Way At You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one's from joan's pov weeeee

_What have I gotten myself into?_

As she walked away, Joan could feel JFK's eyes on her back. She really didn't know why she had agreed. 

Maybe it was his persistence; he didn't seem like he was going to give up anytime soon, and she had places to be. Or maybe it was those puppy eyes, or the sincerity in his voice. Maybe it was the compliments that he had given her—she didn't get complimented very often. Or maybe it was because she had just witnessed the man she was so infatuated with tongue-fucking her worst enemy again. Either way, she was going on a date with Kennedy. 

She wanted to punch herself.

A dizziness swept through her, and she stumbled, almost toppling over. She had to stop walking. Everything was hitting her at once in a tidal wave of doubt and nervousness. She was going on a date. Her first date, in fact. And it was with J-F-fucking-K.

Joan had always wanted to save this precious first date for Abe. She wanted to share this milestone with him, she wanted to awkwardly fumble her way through a relationship with him because he was just as inexperienced as she was. They were supposed to be exploring romance, together. But all of that had just flew out of the window so fast it had broken the sound barrier.

She placed a trembling hand on her forehead and took a deep breath. _I can still back out_ , she thought. She could show up at school tomorrow, let Kennedy down, and go about her day feeling a lot better. She could preserve her first date for the day Abe realized that Cleo was a disingenuous whore and broke up with her.

Joan swallowed thickly. Deep inside, she knew that day would never come. It hurt her greatly to acknowledge the fact that Abe would never feel the same, which is why she tried not to; it was becoming clearer and clearer, though, that that was something she had to accept. Maybe an afternoon with JFK would ease the stinging pain that plagued her.

The rest of her walk home was more like a trudge home.

By the end of the next day, Joan wanted to collapse and sleep for fifteen hours. Of course she couldn't, but oh how she wished she could. She just couldn't get her mind off of how JFK the womanizing fuck-face would be taking her to the Grassy Knoll instead of the man she had been so fervently dreaming of for years. It didn't seem real. More importantly, it didn't seem right.

"Joan," someone called her name, yanking her out of her thoughts. She had expected JFK to come sliding down the hallway with a stupid pickup line, but the person who spoke to her was Abe. A sinking feeling of dread took hold. Lately, she hadn't enjoyed talking to Abe. All he gabbed on about was Cleo, Cleo, Cleo. 

_Oh Joan, our relationship is going so well._

_Joan, Cleo has been all over me today! She's so cute._

_Joan, Cleo loves me and I love her, and I'll never love you._

She was brought back to reality once more by Abe exclaiming, "You'll never believe what just happened." He was bouncing up and down with what might have been the widest grin she'd ever seen spread across his face. She was admittedly curious. "What happened?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light.

"Cleo told me that she loves me! Can you believe that!?" _Oh._

Before Joan could burst into tears, someone put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, baby," JFK said smoothly, "ready to, uh, go?" When his eyes landed on Lincoln, his smirk fell. Abe's smile disappeared, too. Something was about to go down, and Joan was not ready for it.

"Joan," Abe said lowly, "what is he talking about?" Kennedy responded for her: "We're goin' out for, uh, shakes." His voice was edged with irritation. Abe growled, "As if she'd go out with the likes of you." Joan sighed.

The other clones around her seemed to blur into nothingness as she listened to JFK snap, "Well, she was, er, happy to agree." The emancipator's clone raised a fuzzy eyebrow. "I don't believe you," he said, his tone begging for a challenge. She could see JFK's half-lidded eyes light up with a fiery anger. He'd been provoked. If Joan didn't do something, this could get messy.

"She can vouch for me," JFK spat with a gesture to Joan. As she opened her mouth to reply, Abe interrupted sharply, "You're just trying to get into her pants. She doesn't want you."

"And you think she, er, wants you? You're a twig with sideburns and an, er-uh, attitude bigger than your, uh, shitty beard."

"My beard is amazing, I'll have you know. It's better than your hair will ever be."

"And yet I'm the one packin' the heat and gettin' the ladies."

"Well, you can't get Cleo back, because she loves me."

"Ya think I want that, uh, cheater back? She's only with ya for, er, your dick, which I can safely assume is tiny. I can get a, uh, better girl easy-peasey."

"Like who? Joan? She's nowhere near as good a girl as Cleo, but even then she's still better than you."

_"Why I oughta!"_

Joan had seen enough.

In one swift motion, she shoved both of her balled fists outwards, one at Lincoln and one at Kennedy. She heard screeches of pain from both of them as her punches collided with their stomachs. "Will you two shut up!?" she hissed harshly. She felt like her rib cage was an actual cage, and it was holding back a blazing flame threatening to explode. A headache was blossoming.

"But Joan, he's slandering you!" JFK whined, shooting a glare at Abe, who shot one right back and replied, "You're the one forcing yourself on her." Joan punched them again. "Ow!" they both yelped.

She mustered up the most venomous scowl she could manage and turned to Abe first. "Abe, he's right. I'm going to the Knoll with him today, so shut up and accept it, you inconsiderate fuckface!" She then whipped her head around to face JFK, who looked almost afraid. "And you. Stop insulting my friend and take a good long look in the mirror!" She didn't mean what she said (well, mostly), but she wasn't about to back down.

There was a shocked, loaded silence before Joan huffed, "Let's go, Kennedy," and grasped his arm tightly, beginning to drag him down the hallway. They received strange looks from the small amount of students still in the building. She didn't look back and instead laser-focused on the exit at the end of the hall. JFK didn't bother to walk on his own, just letting Joan pull him along.

When they had reached the sidewalk, Joan said shortly, "Car. Now." It took Kennedy a second to understand what she was referring to, but when it occurred to him, he gasped sheepishly, "Oh! Right." He dashed away and soon after pulled up in his chunky van. Joan got in and without another word they drove off.

The quiet in the car was suffocating. Joan was trying desperately to hold back from screaming and sobbing and choking Kennedy all at once while said Kennedy stole glances at her constantly. Eventually, he muttered, "Uh, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry, huh? Well, it's a little to late for that, now isn't it?" she yelled, her words brimming with acidic fury. JFK winced. "I couldn't let him, uh, talk bad about ya like that," he protested firmly. His knuckles were white as they held the wheel.

"I can take care of myself! Besides, he wasn't talking bad. He was just... concerned for me. He always looks out for me." As her sentence went on, her voice became more and more subdued. Her anger was morphing into something resembling misery. Was Abe really concerned, or was he just talking bad about her, like JFK said? Did he really care so little about her?

Joan didn't want to believe it. She really, really didn't want to. But with the way Abe had been acting, she was starting to. 

The world passed by in flashing colors as JFK sped down the road. _What have I done?_ Joan thought in despair. She had just insulted both Abe and JFK, and punched them twice. She hadn't meant for any of this to happen. She just wanted them to shut up and stop talking about her like she wasn't literally right there. It was infuriating. But now she had surely ruined her little date with Kennedy. He was going to lose interest in her after this fiasco, and her whole world would come crashing down on her like it always did.

She felt a warm wetness on her face and was horrified to discover tears beginning to drip down her cheeks. As fast as she could, she turned to the window in an attempt to keep JFK from seeing her, but she couldn't keep a choked sob from crawling out of her throat.

"Hey. I really shouldn't'a stepped, er-uh, outta line like that," JFK said softly, "That punk was just, uh, making me so mad. He has no right to, er, talk about ya like that. You're the finest damn Betty in this whole school." He placed a gentle hand on her knee and patted it; she could tell it wasn't meant to be sexual, but rather comforting.

Joan dragged her arm across her face and sniffled. "Thanks," she sighed heavily, "and I'm sorry for what I said. I guess I should stop being so hung up over him. I dunno if he'll ever like me." "Well, uh, he's missin' out on a damn knockout broad," JFK chuckled. She could tell she was blushing, but she didn't care much.

"Do ya want me to, er-uh, take ya home?" He asked. His hand never left her knee. Joan thought for a moment. She knew she probably looked a mess right now, with puffy eyes rung with red and mascara smeared all over her face. Was it a wise decision to be seen in public? Probably not. But, she saw JFK's little smile, and she felt better.

She shook her head. "Nah, I'm hungry," she chuckled, to which he gave her one last squeeze before retracting his arm. "Sounds good to me. Man, I could really, uh, go for some fries," he said warmly. "Agreed."

_Maybe this would be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA WOOO I LOVE ME SOME FORCED CONFLICT!!!! i couldnt resist adding a lil jealous jfk in there, sorry lol. looks like this is gonna be more chapters than i thought. prolly not a lot more but who knows, a lot of the time i end up writing something totally different than what i had originally envisioned which is what happened here lmao. ok bye have fun


	3. I Change My Clothes Ten Times Before I Take You On A Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> their date, part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YFTUGYHJLHKJGFGDFHGJKLK SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

Hand in hand (and after Joan had cleaned her face with a dirty napkin from the back of JFK's van), JFK and Joan walked into the Grassy Knoll. Even after whatever that shitshow was, she still wanted to get shakes with him, which made him inwardly smile. Though, he was also worried for her. He could only imagine what was going through her mind at that moment.

Guilt settled in his stomach as he went to order their food while Joan found a seat. He shouldn't have provoked Lincoln. But he couldn't just sit and watch him talk down to Joan like that. If he hadn't done something, he might have exploded. 

JFK felt like a real asshole.

"Two, uh, medium shakes, one strawberry and one chocolate. Oh, and, er-uh, an order of fries," he said to Marie Antoinette, who was as stony as ever. It didn't take as much restraint as he thought it would to not make a comment on her breasts, which impressed him. Maybe it was because he knew he had a knockout Betty waiting for him.

After he had paid, he surveyed the restaurant in search of his Betty. He saw the unmistakable crimson hair and rushed right over. Joan was staring intently at the table, absentmindedly picking at her nails. "Food's been ordered," he stated as he sat down in the cracked seat across from her. She looked up at the sound of his voice. "Cool," she said quietly with an unfocused gaze. Her mind was clearly somewhere else.

It hit JFK that he never thought he'd get this far. He thought Joan would immediately reject him and proceed to beat the shit out of him, and he'd be left reeling in the dust. And though she had resisted at first, when she had actually said yes, it had shocked him like a splash of freezing cold water to his face. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure what to do, especially when his date was feeling so down.

His eyes landed on her hands, which were resting on the table. Experimentally, JFK reached out and placed his hand over top of hers. Joan flinched, and he hastily retracted his arm. "Uh, sorry," he muttered for lack of what to say. Well, that hadn't worked.

Joan's pale face flushed a rosy pink as she said shyly, "No, it's fine. You can, um, put it back...?" Hesitantly, Kennedy took her hand again, and this time she didn't flinch. The warmth of her hand under his made his heart skip a few beats. _Jeez, I have it bad_ , he thought. Just a slight touch sent him into a tizzy. This had never happened before, not even with Cleo.

The strange silence continued. Eventually, Joan broke the ice: "I'm sorry if this isn't what you had imagined." JFK quickly said in an attempt to soothe her, "No, this is nice. It's just nice to, uh, be around you." She looked so downcast.

"Is it, though? I've ruined this stupid date," she sighed, sounding frustrated. The word 'stupid' was a punch to JFK's gut, but he ignored it. He shook his head. "It isn't your fault, Joan," he told her softly, "Let's just enjoy ourselves, yeah?"

Joan was still looking at the waxy table. He felt her fingers twitch. "...Yeah. Let's do that," she mumbled. JFK anxiously chewed on his lip. How could he turn this around? Just then, Marie approached with a tray of food. "Here you go," she said, her voice as monotone as ever, and placed their milkshakes and fries down before promptly walking away. _Food will help, right?_ he thought hopefully.

"Damn, I'm hungry," Joan exclaimed with renewed vigor and grabbed a handful of fries. Kennedy took a sip of his fruity milkshake to cover the amused snort he made.

They spent the next fifteen minutes or so shoving food down their throats and making idle chat. Joan seemed to cheer up as she told him about Toot's determination to learn the violin despite, you know, the blindness, and about the really fat squirrel she saw on her walk to school, and about this and that.

"He keeps whining about how there's no fret boards," she said. JFK asked, confused, "What's a Fred board?"

JFK recounted a definitely totally true story in which he beat up an entire ten-person gang that had ambushed him, and then the cops were called, and they gave him a pat on the back when they found out what happened.

Joan rolled her eyes. "As if," she scoffed. "It's true! My buddy works at the, er-uh, police station a few blocks down from here. He can, uh, vouch for me," JFK protested, tossing his hands in the air for emphasis. Joan challenged, "Then call him." "I, uh, forgot his number?"

JFK delighted in Joan's smile, in her laugh. He made as many jokes as he could just to see her grin, even if only for a second

It occurred to him that he wasn't sure if he'd ever want another girl. Joan was the only girl he really wanted. His womanizer persona was kind of fucked, wasn't it? What would he do when the girls threw themselves at him? He guessed that he'd have to fake it. That didn't sound fun, but it wasn't like he could just stop having sex.

That is, until Joan became his girlfriend. If that ever happened, he wouldn't even so much as look at someone else. He didn't like to entertain the thought, purely because he was sure it wouldn't happen. He couldn't let his hopes get too high. Though, sometimes he would let his mind wander. Those times usually ended in a particularly sticky night.

"Earth to Kennedy," Joan said with a frown, snapping her fingers in front of his face a few times. Shit. He'd been staring, hadn't he? JFK laughed sheepishly, "Ah, sorry." The frown didn't leave her face. "Are you bored or something?" she asked uneasily, and he cursed himself. _Dammit JFK, get your shit together!_

At the very last second, he decided to use this to his advantage. "'Course not! I just got distracted by, er-uh, how pretty you are," he said with a wink. This did something, apparently, because Joan broke out into a sudden coughing fit. "You okay?" he sputtered in shock. Did he do that?

She held up a hand to tell him to wait while she continued hacking up a lung. Eventually, she put down her hand and croaked, "Sorry. You caught me off guard and I choked on my spit." JFK bit his lip. "Oops..." he trailed off uncertainly. But Joan chuckled, and he felt fine again.

"Thanks," she said, "You're a lot nicer than you let on." JFK recognized that he could be a little bit of a lady-killing douche sometimes, and that was the side of him that the school knew, because that's the side of him that the girls liked. All the girls except Joan.

"You are, too," he grinned. It was true—this entire date had been a lot more pleasant than he had originally thought. Joan had been quiet and unsure at first, but as the date went on she became more talkative and came into her own. Maybe it was because she was emotionally vulnerable after the incident, which JFK realized was kind of fucked up, but he couldn't bring himself to care much.

_Could something happen between us?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii so i didn't finish this chapter but i really wanted to publish something cause it's been a while, so i'm splitting this into 2 parts. hopefully it won't take me another billion years to get the next chapter out. the next one might be the last one cause idk if i could think of any more ideas for this, but maybe i will? whatever thanks for reading
> 
> also yknow that bit about violins not having fret boards? WHY DONT THEY HAVE FRET BOARDS?? YOURE TELLING ME THAT I HAVE TO G U E S S WHERE THE CORRECT NOTE IS????? DO YOU THINK IM A FUCKIN GENIUS?????? THIS IS WHY LITERALLY ANY OTHER STRING INSTRUMENT IS SUPERIOR. I AM RETURNING MY RENTED VIOLIN TO THE MUSIC STORE AND RENTING A FUCKIN ELECTRIC GUITAR!!!!!!!!!!!!! IMMA SHRED THAT BITCH!!!!!


End file.
